Slave to the White Hand
by Scramble125
Summary: An uruk-hai is born into evil, and follows its purposes, perhaps to a bitter end...Chapter 3 up
1. Birth of a minion

---Author's note: This is my first fanfiction. I may do it in chapters, I'm pretty sure I will, but it's still up in the air. I'd appreciate feedback, I know I'll need it. Thanks in advance to anybody who reviews it! Oh, and I'm sorry about the formatting, what with the asterisks and all. I needed to do that so that I could separate actions from thoughts. If your eyes get a little jumpy, take a break. Sorry the first chapter is so short too, I wanted to get it up. The next chapters will probably be short but I hope that the entire story will be longer.--- +Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this whole story. I don't even own Lurtz, the toy companies got to that first.+ 

Slave to the White Hand

--------Chapter 1: Birth of a minion-------------

  
  
The White Hand is what I perceive…that is all... Breathing… 

Yes, I can breath! The air is rich with the stench of death! It is around me, it is me! But my eyes! I can't see…what is…what's in my eyes…The filth of the land blinds me…I must get it out! I am blinded no longer by mud but by rage! Whoever threw me in this pit will die…

You. Yes, you, you filthy lowlife orc. I'm not like you! I'm better than you will ever be! I'm stronger, I bear the mark of The White Hand! I see no hand on your brow. You threw me into this pit, so die like the dog you don't deserve to be…There! If I must breath this air, you may not! I can feel your throat, crushed beneath my fingers…How does it feel to die? I do not know. I will never know!

But more. I need more death! It is who I am, I live for it! But I am hungry, man-flesh…perhaps not now, no. This orc, this dog will suffice for now…

*Saruman ordered the newly born uruk-hai forward. Slowly the foul creature rose to its grand height, the blood of the freshly devoured orc still running down its lips. Every breath it took was a growl; any orc who made eye contact with it instantly felt as if it had been brushed by Death itself.*

This…this is the White Hand? This is the One whom I fear, and love? This…it cannot be! The breath of my existence comes from this…this…sharkû?

*Saruman paced around the uruk-hai. Seeing that he was strong, and fearless to stand before him, he knew that the creature would make an excellent captain. The rebellious nature of these monsters had always startled him, but he had his ways of controlling them.*

* "Do you wish to feast on more than just your brothers?" Saruman's words were savage, yet beguiling.*

What do you think, you bent old thing? You can't trick me because your voice is deep and your words welcoming! Do you think that being born into evil puts me at the same level of stupidity as those ugly orcs? Do not call them my brothers! They are NOTHING to me!

*The uruk-hai's thoughts came out a snarl. Immediately he felt a great pain in his stomach, forcing him to the ground. It spread throughout his entire body, shaking his muscles, draining him of his energy. It increased in magnitude, becoming so overpowering and unbearable that for the first and perhaps only time, the fear of death crossed his mind and enraged him.*

THE PAIN...I...this is unbelievable...WHY must I feel this? If this stops, I will serve you, Sharky, and fear only the pain you give...You, I belong to…Please…make it stop…

*Saruman smiled, perceiving his thoughts. Or perhaps the uruk-hai, in the midst of his torture, had spoken these words aloud. "Yes, child. THAT is what you fear. But no more! From this day forth, indeed fear me, for only I can deal such pain as you have felt today!"*

*The uruk-hai rose, the pain in his limbs receding to a dull throbbing sensation. However, the torture was still fresh in his mind, and echoes of Saruman's voice rang in his head.*

No…..now I know that I hate you! Yet…..yet I fear you……and therefore you are my master…..but know this, you bitter old thing, that I would kill you if I had the chance…..Do not think that my respect extends to love!

*The uruk-hai was led out of the birthing pit. No orc stood next to him. They simply followed in the shadows, dreading the anger this particularly fierce uruk-hai might unleash on them. The thing seemed to know its way. He was quartered in a small room, deep within the chasms of Isengard, and given the name Lurtz.*

Lurtz…Yes…it is a good name! I am a captain, they say, to be trained to kill more ruthlessly than I could ever imagine! The hills will be covered with the blood of my foes, and none who cross my path shall live! I shall learn to shoot, they also say, with accuracy to rival that of the accursed elves! These hands…these hands will break the bones of my enemies, and rip the very flesh from their bodies! Hah hah! The feast will indeed be grand tonight!


	2. Evil consumes

---Author's note: Someone mentioned that switching between a first person point of view and a third omniscient is a little awkward. I apologize, but I did not want this to turn into an "I walked here and thought…" kind of story. Since much of the story will focus on Lurtz's thoughts, I thought it'd be interesting to make the basic text of the story only his that, reacting to some events that we can see, with some explained. And this won't turn into an uruk-love story. Let me know in your reviews if you see any bad mistakes! Refer to chapter one for disclaimer.---

Slave to the White Hand

-----Chapter 2: Evil consumes-----

Yes…My weapon! My blade…I will live by this! Thousands will die by my hand, and thousands more by my sword! I can see it already soaked in blood, bathed in the very life and death of my enemies. I do not know the names of my foes, but if they do not follow the White Hand, then I will make them pay!

I can hear it in my head, you know. That wonderful, yet horrible voice of good-will and malice, of reason and treachery. The way he spoke and called me "Child"…ptooh! I am no child of his! If I was so, then I would be small and frail, and susceptible to the pain of the world. Nay, I feel no earthly pain. What he deals out, that is what I fear. I will not live to cross him again…but I still loath the very sight of him, and though my hands may not split the bones in his neck, others will bring him and his little reign crashing down! But for now, I remain in the service of the White Hand…and must kill for him, owing my allegiance, my life to him. It will not always be so! By the blade I carry, it will not!

Ahh, I'm hungry again…I forever lust for the taste of man-flesh…the orc in that pit seems so long ago, thought it was only a few hours…They have kept me confined in this stinking pit, thinking my hunger will be subdued by a few strips of ancient dry meat.

Tomorrow…tomorrow we march to find the halflings! I am eager for this mission, for I am told that they are in a company composed partially of mortal flesh! One of them is said to be a Gondorling…I have long desired to taste the flesh of a Man of Gondor! I will kill and devour him, and perhaps this aching hunger will die away…

I do not trust anyone in my company…Treacherous and murderous they are, but I was forced to tell them of my special bounty. They can have the Ranger and the Dwarf, but the other Man is mine! They fear me, the puny orcs and weak uruk-hai's, so they dare not cross me…

There is another reason I am anxious for tomorrow to come. What if those stupid creatures kill the halflings? Repercussions from the White Hand would be swift, but terribly painful…none of my army would live to tell about it! I would rip the halflings apart myself, if it was not for the fact that I, too, would be ripped apart if I should carry that act out. I will be watching those moronic things, and I will not hesitate to put an arrow through the head of any one who moves to kill the halflings!

But…this…this would be protecting them! I…I do not understand, I have been born into evil! I cannot help them, they are part of the Western world…I have sworn to see the downfall of the West! Why must I protect those who come forth from it?

I cannot think of this now. I sense that Sharky perceives my thoughts…Even now, his thoughts are probably turning to my own…He may be treacherous but he does not like anyone who disagrees with him. I know. I felt the pain, a pain that no other can even dream of! I fell to the floor before him, at his mercy…

…And he spared me…Yes, for now, I will remember that he spared me, and did not crush my skull with the butt of his staff. I know that it pained him to show mercy, and it pains me to have received it…I would rather have died with a thousands arrows in my heart than to have my life in the hands of a withered old man…But knowing that he spared me will keep my wrath in check, so perhaps I will feast upon the blood and flesh of man before the sun sets upon his life.

Even so, I sense that there is a greater purpose to my life. Maybe…maybe I am searching for something else…I am forever drawn to the East…


	3. Growing doubt festers

----Chapter 3 finally. Sorry it took so long, and those of you who reviewed, thanks! I don't get a lot of time, plus I've been a little sick recently. Oh, and I spilled water on my keyboard, now only my left and up arrows work; the down and right seem to be linked... And I've had homework. Enough excuses. To address a reviewer: The reason I made Lurtz's special bounty Borimir is because he has a lineage leading from the stewards of Gondor; he's the son of the current steward. Aragorn's higher lineage is hidden, even to Sauron himself (remember in the third book when Aragorn revealed himself to the Eye via the seeing-stone? That's what I'm pulling from.) Anyway, I figured if Sauron didn't know, and Saruman didn't, a little uruk-hai captain wouldn't either. Thanks for paying attention to these details! Oh yeah, can anyone tell me how to do italics? I may probably use them to show action, and that would be essential for the next chapter.----

Slave to the White Hand

-----Chapter 3: Growing doubt festers-----

Tonight we rest here! I will call a halt. We will arrive at Amon Hen tomorrow afternoon…

Doubt continues to grow in my mind…Perhaps the White Hand is not all powerful…Surely out here he cannot perceive what I think? Hah! Then I will be blasphemous…I KNOW that the White Hand has a master, though he does not reveal himself…I can feel him calling me…forever beckoning me to the West…and…an eye…

But I cannot serve it yet…I feel it commanding me to continue serving the White Hand, but not to be consumed by it…I must obey this new entity, for I sense a greater power in it, and greater pain if I do it a disservice.

But, what am I doing? Why must I hunt down and…protect these halflings? My entire company will want to rip them apart for they are not as wise as me. Why must I risk my neck to save those puny things?

A memory of pain rises in my mind…I can feel it again, the infinite burning in me, as the pain spread about me and threw me to the floor…that is why I continue, because I seek this new master, and because I have yet to overcome my fear of the White Hand. But the Eye…the Eye will deliver me…

~There. I know it's short. This is more of an introduction chapter into the next one. If ANYBODY can tell me how to do italics, I'll get to work on my next chapter all the more quickly. Review! Thanks!~


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